Trek Tales
by LauraCynthia
Summary: UPDATE: Kirk interrupts a moment of solitude for McCoy and quickly learns why it's a bad idea to disturb the doctor.
1. Trolling the Doctor

It was Open House day on board the _Determination_, and the senior staff of the _Enterprise _had been cordially invited to attend. Kirk had accepted on everyone's behalf. As it was the first of its class, there was no small measure of excitement over this event.

They had been through the brand new ship from stem to stern, and had been duly impressed by the gleaming walls, the spacious quarters, and the well-organized engine room. The bridge was the last stop. Everyone had admired the view from the screen, and Kirk had tested out the captain's chair for 10 seconds before declaring it "not _quite_ the same" as his, in a tone that indicated he preferred his own.

Walking to the back of the bridge, he spotted McCoy staring at a display screen, and it was clear by the frown on his face that something was bothering him. Kirk checked the screen – _huh…what's he thinking? That's just temperature controls – looks normal, too._

"Something on your mind, Doctor?" he asked, putting his hand on Bones' shoulder. Scotty was over at the next console, reading something off the screen silently, his lips moving as he studied various system diagrams.

His lips pursed, McCoy blew out a breath and sat down. "Still can't figure it out." He shook his head from side to side, then tapped a tab on the touch screen to reveal the ship's schematics. "Look here, Jim." He stabbed a section of the screen to highlight it. "Can you tell me why in blue blazes they would put the sickbay directly under the bridge?"

Scotty looked up from his screen, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "'Cause that's where all the trolls live," he muttered under his breath as he walked past them to the turbolift.

Both men looked up at him. McCoy's frown deepened and his face turned red. "I heard that!"

Scotty's grin grew wider. The turbolift doors shut, taking him away.

It took 10 minutes for Jim to stop laughing.


	2. Bones Wants To Be Left Alone

**This was inspired by the 2013 video game and an ad I saw for _Almost Human, _Karl Urban's short-lived crime show. Enjoy!**

Kirk burst into the room and stunned the infected Vulcan. He crept behind the dazed individual and cut off his air until he fell unconscious.

_That's one down_, he thought as he let the man sink to the ground. He paused to listen as McCoy's voice came over the communicator, staticky and unclear.

_"__There seem to be high toxin levels. Origins unknown. Will continue to investigate…"_ The feed cut abruptly.

"Bones?...come in, Bones….you still there?" Kirk looked behind him, but Spock hadn't caught up yet.

"No! I mean, chhhhhhhhhh…."

Kirk glared down at his communicator. "Nice try, Bones….."


	3. Scotty Trolls Again

**Also inspired by the game. Scotty can be really mean...**

"Scotty – we're pinned in! DO IT NOW!" Kirk popped up from behind the cargo crates and fired the rifle at the attacking Gorn. The creature collapsed after getting off a few rounds himself.

"Aye, aye, Captain," Scotty replied.

He dropped into a crouch and into cover. Spock did the same. They both waited for the familiar glowing energy spirals to surround them.

None did.

Spock looked at Kirk, confusion evident. With a frustrated sigh, Kirk clutched his phaser rifle in one hand. "Mr. Scott, you're not beaming…." he called in an annoyed, sing-song voice.

"Oh, yes, I aaaam…" Scotty replied. There was no mistaking the grin in _his_ voice.


	4. Keenser Needs a Dictionary

**Know your English...cuz one wrong word can make ****_all_**** the difference...**

Scotty walked down the hallway, Starfleet duffle slung over his shoulder. After a particularly gruelling month of system upgrades, he was finally going on shore leave.

He rubbed his tired eyes. The more he thought about it, maybe requisition red tape _was_ a blessing in disguise.

"All those back orders I been waiting for….wouldn't ye know it, they all came in at once…"

"Fail."

"Indeed, laddie…..oh, goodness, there ye'are, Keenser. Here and I thought ye wouldnae come after all." Scotty looked down and to his left to find his friend in casual garb, dragging a bag that was almost as big as he was. "Let me take that for ya –oof! What are ya bringing along with ya, the warp core?"

Scotty shifted his bag to his right shoulder and carried Keenser's on his left. "Ahh, vacation! Now the fun part begins. I've been meanin' tae visit the advanced propulsion facility on Tyteros VI for three years….a few of me old classmates work there now. It's a far cry from Delta Vega, let me tell ye….warm breezes, blue skies…"

Keenser looked up at him as they turned a corner. "Honeymoon."

Scotty dropped the bags on the floor. "It's not a bloody honeymoon!" Several people turned to look at him. His face flushed, and he crossed his arms. "Do ye even know what the word means, now?", he asked in a stage whisper.

If Keenser could ever be said to look confused, he did now. "Vacation."

Scotty's quickly went from indignant to amused. He chuckled. "Well, it is, and it isn't…."


	5. The Ambassadors Who Wouldn't Shut Up

**Some songs live forever...much to the crew's dismay.**

_Ugh…._

Kirk rubbed his throbbing temples with both hands, and noticed that everyone appeared to be doing the same. Even the usually stoic Spock sat with his eyes scrunched together, drawing in one frustrated breath after another.

Chekov covered his ears. "Ughh…it zounds like eet's coming from _eweryvhere_….." He shared a pained look with Sulu, who nodded and groaned.

"Anything you can do to block it out, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked Uhura.

She swivelled around in her chair, removing her earpiece and rubbing her ears. "Sorry, sir,….the Vrudans are known for having…powerful singing voices."

_Not to mention a lousy taste in music. _The doors opened, and McCoy strode in. He was wearing a pair of winter ear muffs, but they were doing no good whatsoever, as evidenced by his tight features and gritted teeth.

"It's all your fault, Jim….you just had to go and authorize access to our archived databases!" He stuck his finger in Kirk's face. "I tried tah mitigate the damage, but…" He waved a hand in the air. "No soap."

"My fault?" Kirk crossed his arms. "Explain."

"Seems they found the song in the ship's music library."

``You`re kidding me…..`` Kirk sighed. ``I swear, I didn`t know it was there….`` The apology showed in his eyes.

``I believe you….``

Kirk closed his eyes. ``What exactly did you do, Bones?``

``Thought maybe if I got them good and drunk, they`d fall asleep and shut up. But it didn`t work!`` McCoy huffed. ``They got louder!`` He threw his hands up in the air and strode towards the door. It opened to the sound of….

Nothing.

Everyone looked around, disoriented. McCoy paused in the doorway.

"Is that…._silence_?`` Sulu asked, stunned.

``I believe it is the cadence of the ship`s systems, Mr. Sulu…`` Spock was as surprised as anyone.

The bridge crew let out a collective sigh of relief. Everybody paused what they were doing to listen to the relative quiet of ambient noise.

It lasted for only 30 seconds before the Vrudans began another rousing chorus of "Tro-lo-lo".

_"__Ahhhhh ya ya yaaaah, ya ya yaaah, yaaah, ya yah..._


	6. Meld-mares

After a day of meetings with one department after another, 2 disciplinary actions and a very annoying vaccine for E'pir corona virus, Captain Kirk was thoroughly worn out. It was the first time since he woke at the unearthly hour of 05:00 that he had been able to be alone without somebody nattering in his ear, giving him a list of demands, asking him to save the day, or lecturing him within an inch of his life. He leaned forward in the chair and covered his eyes with his hands, yawning. Whoever it was who had the bright idea to to make the walls of the recreation room stark arctic white needed to be shot. And revived. And shot again.

"Augh…" He forced one eye open, then the other. Scanned the room. Held his breath and listened. _Ahhh. Completely, blessedly empty. _Even S'akitg had retreated to his quarters for the night. Kirk allowed the lines between his eyes to soften. The Etroidan was known to haunt this room at all hours of the day. Quite literally, to the point where 3 ensigns and a lieutenant refused to come in unless he was absent. _Just because he's translucent is no reason to fear him. Oh, yeah, and the fact that he hovers – no, lurks- in the corner with that inscrutable look on his face. Come to think of it_, he chuckled_, they may have a point there._

He leaned back in the soft chair and yawned again. The soft fabric gave way to his form. He was seriously considering replacing the captain's chair with one of these. _Yawn. When was the last time I ate?_ _I-I can't even…._ His eyelids drooped. Then popped open. Then shuttered halfway. He pulled his legs up on the chair and turned slightly, so his left side was leaning on the backrest. _…stay…awake. Must….,_ he protested even as his body relaxed. With a soft snore, he settled in, his arms tucked close to his body and his mouth half open.

_The sky was glowing a pale blue as he floated on the clouds ever so gently. He reached his hand out and scooped up an armful of frothy cloud. He plumped it carefully between his hands. It firmed up like a feather pillow, and he bent at the waist and placed it on the ground. _

_He reached for another bundle of cloud and lifted it by the edges. He shook it lightly in the breeze, and it spread wider and thinner, becoming a soft blanket of mist. The warm wind wisped through his short hair, and he laid the blanket down too. Smiling to himself, he eased down and lifted a corner, preparing to rest beneath it._

_Suddenly, the cloud gave way from underneath him. He struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening, even as his body slipped through a large gap in the ground. Arms flailing and gasping, he dropped like a stone. _

_The clouds around him were different; thick, ominous and foreboding. Thunder rumbled and the wind was buffeting his uniform; he closed his eyes, still thrashing in a battle against gravity. _

_And then, as if by – magic? Divine intervention? – he stopped falling. _

_Breathing heavily, he tried to calm his racing heart rate. He looked down and saw, beneath his feet, nothing. Nothing. He whipped around, frantically. Nothing. He was surrounded by blackness._

_A small point of light caught his eye. He looked towards it. Far off in the distance, but coming closer by the second. No….not a light. A face…._

_"__Awaken, Captain." _

_Spock?_

"AHHHH!" Kirk flew out of the chair as if his warp engines had kicked in. He landed with a _THUMP! _on the floor. His heart flew into his throat and pulsated as if it was fighting its way out through his trachea. He looked up to see Spock standing next to the chair, completely unfazed, as if his captain always greeted him with a scream and a vault. One eyebrow lifted. Well, maybe not _completely_ unfazed.

He inched backwards slightly and winced. "Ah,…Spock….what is the matter…..with you? Can't you just….tap me on the….shoulder?" he asked, noticing for the first time that only one of the commander's hands was behind his back. The other was frozen mid-air, as though he was reaching for something. Or…

"What the heck did you just do?!..._Meld _me awake?!"

Spock seemed to notice for the first time that his hand was still lifted. He lowered it and clasped the other one. "Captain, when you did not arrive on the bridge this morning on time, I was concerned for your wellbeing. I went to your quarters but you were absent. This caused further consternation. Recalling your inoculation, I inquired of Dr. McCoy, but he informed me you had not been there since yesterday. His request that I track you down was accompanied by several choice words, which if I were to repeat them would undoubtedly cause unwarranted tension between you and himself. ( I suspect he was merely frustrated and anxious, not hostile, however, and I do believe if you apologized, he would be willing to overlook it.) It then occurred to me that given your busy schedule yesterday and the certain fatigue you would be experiencing that you had gone to the one place where you could be certain of both comfort and solitude apart from your private quarters or office where anybody who wished to locate you would naturally look.

"When I arrived here, I found you in this chair, in a state of slumber that was considerably deeper than usual. You did not appear to be in medical distress; in fact, you seemed quite peaceful. My tricorder revealed no trace of drugs or toxins; therefore I could only assume that you were merely enjoying respite after your trying day. I considered shaking you awake, but I felt that would be disruptive. Yelling loudly I dismissed, as well as applying a needless stimulant. Therefore, there remained only one solution in my repertoire, and I used it."

"You….used…it." Kirk shook his head, still unable to believe what he was hearing. Then again, it _was _Spock….

He stood up carefully, then walked slowly towards his first officer. "Don't you _EVER _do that again," he cautioned, even as his eyes betrayed his slight- _very slight-_ amusement. They turned and headed for the exit, Kirk walking ahead, Spock behind him, watching protectively. "Man, and I thought only Pike could freak me out like that….."


	7. Spock Uses His Noodle

_Buzz._

"Door's open." _Whoosh._

"Why did you lie, sir? And about something so trivial?"

Kirk squinted at his first officer, as though he was giving off some kind of powerful glow. "Lie? Who did you talk to?!"

"Only you, sir."

"O-kaaayyy…..so tell me, what? I've been in my office since 0700 hours….haven't seen or heard from anyone save you today." Kirk steepled his fingers together on his desk.

"When one's instinct is to lie about the most basic and inane details, one's friends and colleagues cannot help but be concerned." Spock regarded him with a look bordering on worry.

_Friends first, huh? You're giving away more than you realize, Spock…._

"I still don't understand. Maybe you could, you know, explain this whole thing to the reprobate."

"When I pressed the chime, you told me the door was open. Yet it was not. I had to activate it myself. So I will ask you again, sir; why did you lie?" His gaze flicked upward. Then he frowned. "Or did you honestly believe it to be open? In which case you were experiencing mild hallucinations-"

_Siiighhhhh…_

"-both of which are worrisome."

Kirk spread his palms wide facing forward. "Spock, it was an expression. 'Door's open.' As in, come in, I'm not having a top-secret meeting you can't attend. As in, enter, I'm not petting a bunny rabbit or finger painting. As in, I won't bite your head off – figuratively or literally- if you appear. Got it?"

Spock's worry lines disappeared. "Ah. Thank you, sir. You have put my mind at ease. Now, to the real reason I wished to see you. I was heading off to have lunch, and as I was leaving, Lieutenant Stickley asked me to pass these on to you." He slid the tablet he was carrying across the desk.

Kirk picked it up and scanned the screen. "Requisitions to sign off on? Okay….if you'll just hang on a minute or two, I'll take care of it. Sit," he admonished, indicating the chair across from him. Spock lowered himself onto the seat, his eyes still fixed on Kirk.

_What are you thinking?_ he wondered, settling back into the chair. He focused on the screen before him. _Let's see…..replicator parts…a new shuttle to replace the one we lost on Freijna…..check, check,….double check….approved….that's going to be late, most likely….what the?!_

"Pool noodles?"

"Yes, sir. A tubular flotation and amusement device constructed out of foam for usage in the water."

"I know what they are, Spock." Kirk burst out laughing. "Somebody wants…_snort!_...200? Are you kidding me? What on earth are they intending to do? You see? _This_ is why requisitions take so long to get filled, even for us. Idiotic requests like this one." Spock eased back into the chair. He looked pleased…and maybe a bit relieved. _Relieved?_ Kirk was puzzled. Then he scrolled down and saw who had requested those particular items.

"Okay….." Kirk leaned back and propped his feet up on the desk. "Spill. What do you want 'em for?" Spock remained quiet. "C'mon, pal, no way are you leaving until you tell me what you're going to do with 'em…"

"Nothing, sir." He stood up and moved towards the door, but Kirk was quicker. "Uh, uh. Who's the liar now?" He blocked the doorway with his body."Didn't I just say I wasn't going to let you go? Out with it."

Spock opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Spock?"

Spock sighed. "Very well, sir. If you must know, that was a…performance evaluation."

"A performance evaluation?" Kirk considered this for a few seconds, miming the use of a magnifying glass. "Yeah….still not seeing it."

"The other requisitions were indeed genuine, sir. I added that one in an attempt to determine whether you indeed read through and carefully considered such documents before signing off on them or not. I was initially concerned when you said that you would only take 'a minute or two.' However, my apprehensions were allayed when you correctly identified the spurious request." He turned and walked away from the door. "Clearly 'a minute or two' _is_ adequate for you."

Kirk crossed his arms, with a scowl that faded into a smile. "You know, I should be mad at you for doubting me after all this time, and I sorta am, but…part of me also has to give you points for originality." He licked his finger and drew an imaginary tic mark in the equally imaginary 'Spock' column. Then he crossed the floor and picked up the tablet again. "Big fat 'X' for the pool noodles. Sorry buddy." Kirk grinned as he popped the 'request overturned' button.

Spock stood with his hands behind his back. "It is fine, sir. I was not planning a pool party, anyway."


	8. Spock Leaves A Lasting Impression

**A little** **clarification; this takes place after** **the Gorn attack is repelled in the video game. Spock had to heal a broken leg bone Kirk suffered as a result of falling off a Gorn ship into the rubble of a building it crashed into on New Vulcan, early on in the game. Apparently, he thought his work was very well done. (at least in my story.) A work of art, to be precise. You'll see...**

**Unlike the previous 2 other shorts inspired by the game, this was not imagined while playing the game.**

It's never a good sign when your doctor starts to laugh during your physical.

After two days of cajoling and several threats, Kirk had finally agreed to more than a cursory patch-up of the cuts and scrapes incurred while rescuing T'Mar from the clutches of the Gorn. A security detail consisting of Lieutenants Hu'tian and Xabora had met him at his door early that morning.

"Thanks, but I think I know the way to medbay." Kirk yawned and tried to brush past them, but a firm grip on his arm stopped him.

"Sorry, sir. Dr. McCoy insisted." Xabora's bright yellow eyes glinted in the dim lighting of the hallway. She released his arm. "Rather forcefully. He mentioned no less than six things he would do to you if you failed to show up."

"Ouch….sounds painful." Kirk rubbed his neck. Just thinking about the possibilities made him wince. "Well, seeing as there's no way out of it….lead the way."

And so he had walked between the two security officers to the turbolift, then out and down the damaged hallway to the good doctor's lair. Medbay was unusually quiet that morning, despite its messy appearance. Only two nurses were visible in the large room. One of them covered her mouth in a yawn as she pointed to something on a display screen. _Night shift filling in day shift, I guess. _Amazingly, the computers seemed to be in good shape after the events of the previous incident. A few wall panels hung open, and some wires dangled loose in an out-of-the-way corner. But the dead Gorn and blood splatters had been cleaned up. _Bones wouldn't have it any other way. _

After a bit of work, Kirk stiffly sat down on a biobed, one leg crossed under the other, which swung back and forth. His escorts stood off to the side. Hu'tian remained straight, his spine curved away from the divider, while Xabora shifted back and forth on her feet, restless. A low growl issued from her stomach, and she blushed bright blue.

"Hungry? Don't stay here on my account." Kirk smiled. "I'll be good, I promise. Fingers firmly _uncrossed_." He held up his hand to show her. She didn't answer.

"You heard the man. Put something in your stomach. Can't work on an empty tank." McCoy stepped in around the divider and past the security officers. "Well, I'll be. I got you right where I want you." He folded his arms across his chest. "Nice work," he called to Xabora and Hu'tian as they departed, he as rigid as before, she at a clipped pace that indicated she was more than eager to get to the mess hall.

"Good morning, Dr. McCoy," Kirk sang, in a childish kindergarten-student-to-teacher kind of way. He shifted on the bed, stretching his leg. "Ouch…man…"

"Not so pleasant for you, huh?" McCoy pulled up Kirk's records on the display. An image of his face appeared next to a long list of maladies. "If I'm not mistaken, that's the one you busted, correct? We'll take a look at that in a second. First, I want to shake your hand." He extended his hand to Kirk, who looked at him, confused, before taking it and pumping it up and down in an unsure way. "Congratulations."

"For what?"

"You were exposed to a deadly pathogen for a whole day and wonder of wonders, did not catch it. That, my friend, is quite the achievement." He prepped a hypospray. _Oh man…._

"For me or anybody?" Kirk leaned back on his elbows, pointing up and to the right.

"Both, but especially you. Hold still." He pressed the injection device to the side of Kirk's neck with a _hiss._ "That oughta take some of the sting out of your leg."

"Or merely distract me with a pain in the neck."

"Either/or." McCoy shrugged.

"Which you are, by the way." Kirk sat up and eased backwards.

"Ha ha. Straighten it out if you can, please." McCoy touched the X-ray imaging tab on his computer screen. Kirk extended the leg, squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. "For crying out loud, I'm just taking a little picture, not lancing a boil." _Click_. "Okay, you can move now….I-….have… ha-" He froze. _What? _"Fffft!" He covered his mouth, but a few flecks of spray hit Kirk in the face.

"Nice," Kirk muttered as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve. "And not very sanitary, _Doctor_. What's gotten into you?" _And what does it have to do with my X-ray?_

By now, McCoy was leaning over the bed for support, laughing his head off. After a few more seconds, he straightened up, wiping away tears and sputtering. A few more chuckles, and then he coughed a little before swallowing. "Sorry, Jim. I-I just…lost it for a second there."

"Apology accepted." He tipped his head to the side. "Care to explain what's so funny about my battle wound?"

"It would appear that Mr. Spock fancies himself quite the _artiste_." Kirk gripped the edge of the bed as McCoy continued to stare at the screen. "Funny, I never would have guessed it of _him_."

"You're talking in riddles." Kirk stabbed the air with his finger. "Out with it."

"See for yourself." McCoy swiveled the screen so Kirk could see. His gaze traveled along the image of the formerly broken bone. It appeared to be perfectly restored. _What? I don't see any- wait a second….No. Way._

There, at the end of the bone, near his ankle, written with a flourish in calligraphic script, was one word;_Spock._

"He didn't." Kirk facepalmed "Ugh, I'll _kill_ him."

McCoy placed his hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Easy there, Jim. I can get rid of it like that." He snapped his fingers. "The engraving is only 3 millimicrometers deep."

Kirk peered between his fingers at McCoy. "Only."

"Yes, only." McCoy smiled at Kirk. "Think of it this way," he drawled as he reached for a tool. "Green-blood couldn't sign your cast, so he did the next best thing."

_Maybe so….but I'm still going to get him for that._


	9. When Slaps Speak Louder Than Words

_If it's important enough, you'll forget your fear and do it anyway._

Leonard McCoy learned that lesson today. And Jim Kirk would never forget it.

It was just about noon on Golostyn III and the fourth sun was rising into a pale green sky. For the first time, he was blessedly alone. The crew of the _Enterprise_ was supposed to be on shore leave here this week. And nearly everyone was, except for a skeleton crew in charge of monitoring the systems and securing the ship.

Oh yeah. And Bones.

Kirk still couldn't believe his friend had opted to stay on board instead of coming along for the adventure. _"C'mon, Bones," _he'd begged._ "Stick around here too long and you'll become as shrivelled as one of your pickled specimens." _To which McCoy folded his arms and let out a long-suffering sigh, pinning him to the wall with a glare. The kind that said, _Don't you have somebody else to pick on besides me? _Kirk decided to get out of there before he came up with a verbal retort. Or remembered some obscure scan or missing booster shot.

_Oh, well. Your loss, Bones._ Kirk peered over the edge of the bubbling crater lake. Swirls of saltwater-tinged air played with his hair and moistened his face. A smile curved his lips. _This is going to be epic….. _He backed up a few steps and crouched into a running position on the plateau. Then, as if a pistol had gone off, audible to no one but him, he lunged forward and threw himself off the outcropping.

His first sensation was absolute silence. _Whoa…_ Then a buffet of wind across his face, pushing his skin against his skull and making his body shudder. He stretched his arms back against his sides and dropped like a bullet, towards the green-tinged water below. Pulled his legs towards his body and folded up like a trifold brochure, rotating in midair. Shut his eyes as his body collided with the surface of the water.

_Wet….dark….everything was exploding….white foam…..where are my legs? Kick….falling…still falling….air….._ He blinked hard and sucked in a breath. It tasted like the water, but….

Kirk flailed around weakly, his hands exploring the deep. His knuckles grazed a soft surface. He pressed harder on it, and while there was some give, it didn't break. He opened his eyes wide. A transparent layer of water surrounded him. Wait…. _I'm in a giant air bubble. No wonder I can still breathe. _He kept his breaths even and shallow, trying not to panic. _Okay, think….how do I get out of here? _

Kirk leaned against the side of the bubble, his muscles tensed. Yet he felt his body slowly rising from the crater floor towards the surface of the water. _Why am I still moving?_ _Oh….because I'm breathing. Hot air rises. Maybe that's it…._ He arched his back, toes pointed towards the bottom of the bubble, hands spread and stretched out towards the sky.

_SHWHOOKIP! _The bubble burst all around him, sending droplets spilling into the water. He gasped for a lungful of air, letting it back out in a whoop that echoed all over the surrounding rockface. "Yeah! Ha ha! Ha-" Kirk choked on his yell, swallowing hard. "Yay," he whispered, grinning to himself.

Kirk dog-paddled shorewards, pulling himself out of the water and onto dry land. Sopping wet, he bent over in a kneeling position before standing up on weak legs. He raised his hands in the air. _Nailed it._

He spun around as a rustling sound caught his ear. Sudden swirls of light appeared in front of him, and several members of his crew materialized. Nobody appeared to be amused; Spock was frowning intensely, while a wide-eyed Uhura stood next to him, clutching his sleeve with one hand, covering her mouth with the other. Chekov looked as though he either wanted to cry or ask him what it was like. Maldonado was pointing his phaser in Kirk's direction, still unsure whether this drenched creature was indeed their captain. Flanigan was facepalming with both hands, and Nyes'Isai'van had turned a peculiar shade of bright purple.

Spock spoke up first. "That was very foolhardy, Captain…." He let his sentence trail off. The others quickly continued his thought.

"What were you _thinking_?"

"You could've been _killed_, sir…."

"Very was it perilous. Very was it unnecessary."

"Are you sure he's in his right mind?"

"Captain…."

"Hey, whoa….calm down…" He extended his hands, palms facing them. "I'm alive, I'm unharmed, I'm okay. So let's just….move on, alright?" But they had already turned their backs on him. Transporter light swirled around their bodies, and they disappeared as quickly as they came.

Kirk raked his hand through his wet hair. _Oh, man… am I in trouble…they're not going to let this go. I'll probably hear about it for days…._

He reached for his communicator to call the transporter room. But before he could make the call, he heard a whoosh and the air shimmered before him again. _Now what?_

A human form appeared 2 feet away. _Bones?_ He barely had time to register the visitor's identity before he felt a rush of air followed by a sharp _CRACK_! and stinging pain as McCoy's open palm made contact with his left cheek.

"Ow!" Kirk stumbled backwards, his hand instinctively reaching up to cover his reddening face. McCoy frowned angrily at him, remaining there for the briefest of seconds, before vanishing in a bright column of moving light.

Kirk continued to stare at the spot his friend and doctor had just occupied. He rubbed his face and let his arm drop to his side, before placing both hands on his hips. _Huh…I thought he hated transporters…_

**McCoy, strangely enough, has no actual dialogue in this. :)**


	10. Every Starship Needs a Chief Wet Blanket

"Zhere she is, Keptin."

Kirk leaned forward in his chair, the panorama of Iad's golden seas lighting his face with an almost angelic glow. His eyes were lit up like Christmas lights as he looked in wonder upon the planet before them. "Really something, isn't it, Mister Chekov?"

"Beautiful. Like a dream." Chekov's right hand was poised over the touchscreen delicately, frozen mid-tap. His left was tucked under his chin, elbow planted on the console. Sulu, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, his controls momentarily forgotten. Other members of the bridge crew had similar reactions. Some had left their stations behind altogether, mesmerized by the ethereal sight.

_It'd be a good time to attack us, that's what._ Leonard McCoy observed from his usual place near the back of the bridge. Close to the turbolift if his services were required elsewhere. _Which they usually are when something cool's happening. _Not to mention far back enough that he didn't feel as though he was about to fall through the viewscreen, down, down, down, through the atmos- _enough! Don't go there! _

"Ahem…" Everybody turned in Spock's direction. He was standing at his station, poised, with one eye on the viewscreen and the other observing the reactions of the crew. "While it _is_ fascinating visually from this vantage point…." He made his way to the centre of the viewscreen, effectively blocking most of the planet, making quick eye contact with the others one at a time. His gaze met McCoy's last. "….there _are_ other considerations. What do initial scans show?"

"Sorry, Mister Spock." Spock waved his hand as if to say, _Never mind. _"Atmosphere is similar to Earth….a leetle on ze smoggy side. Hot, too….somezing of a desert. Current daytime temperatures reaching…." Chekov tapped the screen. "103 degrees Fahrenheit…whew!" He wiped his forehead, as though he could already feel it. "Am not detecting any humanoid life vhatsoewer."

"Probably can't take the heat." McCoy fanned himself idly, striding up next to the captain's chair.

Kirk looked up at his approach. The glazed look was gone, but it had been replaced with one of –what? Resolve? Joy? Defiance? McCoy wasn't sure. _Maybe all three._ Whatever it was, it propelled him out of the chair with a hop and carried him to the front, where Spock now perused a display readout.

Sulu noticed his sudden appearance. "I assume you want to stick around, sir?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the console.

Kirk appeared thoughtful, before his features hardened, but not in an angry expression. Rather set, more like gelatin than concrete. "Standard orbit, Mr. Sulu. We're going planetside." _I knew it._ He spun on his heel and headed back towards the chair. As his eyes met McCoy's, his expression changed yet again. The corner of his lips twitched, and his eyes filled with a tiny bit of mirth. Aside from that, his expression appeared professional. _What's so funny? _McCoy wondered.

It didn't take long for him to get his answer. Kirk leaned against his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and flicked a lazy glance over at him. "Standard objections, Doctor McCoy."

_Standard what?_, he mouthed. Kirk waved a hand at him, palm facing up. _Go ahead,_ he seemed to say.

Then it hit him. _Oh for crying out- have I become that predictable? _ McCoy pressed his lips together, trying not to smile or laugh or do anything that would validate the little weasel's attempt at levity. He scanned the bridge and found to his dismay that nearly everyone was waiting with bated breath for him to speak up. Even Spock appeared to be curiously observing him. Waiting.

A moment of silence passed. _What to do? Stomp off the bridge with a scowl or just humor him? How long can they keep it up, anyway? I've got work to do – better things than being the butt of a joke. I'm a doctor, not a comedy relief!_ _I-_ A fine spray issued from his mouth. He swallowed, hard. Then sighed. _All right, all right! Get it over with, Len…._ He extended his left and right index fingers, then touched one to the other, counting calmly, with the ghost of a smile and a touch of irony in his voice. "Number one, it's too dangerous. Number two, you'll be killed. Number three, we don't know anything about the place. Number four…"


	11. Impromptu Childminding

Spock had just lifted the spoonful of Runirian green potato soup to his mouth when the door to his quarters buzzed. _Who has disturbed my meal? No attempts to contact me have been made on my communicator, so I assume it is not an emergency on the bridge or elsewhere. _The buzzing continued, almost frantic. He dropped the spoon into a diamond-shaped bowl with a soft _plunk _and stood, moving slowly to the door.

He pressed the button to open the door. "What has happened?" Lieutenant Marianne Marsden stood there, arms full with a large bundle. A Starfleet duffel bag was slung across her body, also overflowing. "Finally, an answer... Take her," she breathed, thrusting the bundle into Spock's arms. She removed the bag and left it at his feet. "I'm late for my shift! If she cries, rub her back!" she shouted, running down the hallway and disappearing into a turbolift.

"Lieutenant - wait! What are you referring to-" The bundle squirmed. Spock flipped back a square of blanket and found himself looking into the brownest eyes he'd ever seen. They were like liquid chocolate, sparkling with tiny teary stars. Feather soft black hair peeked out from a knitted pink hat which matched the pink sleeper decorated with little moons that she wore. The chubby baby in his arms pouted, a pinched look on her face.

Then let out a howl like a banshee.

Spock backed into the room, bending down momentarily to grab and hoist the bag at his feet. _Ah...a supply kit, or "diaper bag". Presumably with everything one would require to mind an infant._ The little one flailed and twisted in his arms, sobbing. "Illogical," he told the child, looking her in the eyes. "You do not yet possess the motor skills necessary to launch or complete an effective escape. Stop this at once." _But apparently babies have_ _no sense of logic... _He walked over to the small table he'd been sitting at before and placed the child on her back. The baby continued to cry, her little feet kicking in the air. One kick arced to the side and knocked his soup onto the floor with a loud clatter. Spock briefly eyed the bowl before once again lifting the screaming child.

_I was given instructions...what did she- ah._ He cradled the child next to his chest, disregarding the fresh soup stains on her legs, and began to rub her back in soft, gentle circles. The little girl trembled against him, a choked, hiccupy sob every now and then coming from her throat, but eventually she stopped fighting the first officer and settled down, snuggling just under his chin.

"You have made the right choice, Cadet," he whispered. _Cadet?_ He gazed down at the top of her head. "A mutiny against your superior officer would not be wise." She looked up at the sound of his voice. "I confess my familiarity with human growth and development as a scientist has in no way prepared me to monitor an actual human infant. Therefore you will have to permit me certain...failures." He wiped a smudge of soup off her cheek with his thumb. She squirmed slightly at his touch. Spock carried her over to a soft chair in the corner and laid her down gently in a sitting position.

_Odd...am I bleeding?_ He glanced between the child's stained sleeper and his own damp uniform shirt, touching it with his fingers before bringing them towards his nose. He sniffed. _Not cuprous...pain absent..._ He turned and saw the overturned bowl, spoon underneath, still lying on the floor. _Ah._ "Remain where I have placed you, Cadet Marsden, while I clean up this spill." She regarded him from her chair, almost quizzically. "As I do not know your given name, I hope you will allow me to refer to you as such." She smacked her lips together. "I take it that was a yes." He bent over the scattered tableware with a sponge in his left hand, placing the objects on the table with his right, then proceeding to make short work of the pool of green liquid. "I shall attend to you next. Presumably your bag contains a change of attire." The baby grunted before letting out a soft sigh. Spock wrinkled his nose, coming to the only conclusion likely. _Evacuation, no doubt...which will require a change of something else._

* * *

><p>Nyota paused outside Spock's closed door. He had not been answering his communicator and she was concerned. <em>An hour late for shift...that's not like him.<em> Her brow furrowed. After trying for 13 minutes to raise him on comms, she'd given up and decided to find out herself. Jim had raised his eyebrows comically as she'd headed for the turbolift, and she'd just shrugged. She'd leaned against the wall of the car and sighed. _If he's in there staring at a rock or something, I'll kill him._

Now, as she lifted her hand to press the doorbell, she noticed the lock indicator icon was unlit. _Strange...why would he leave it unsecured?_ She moved her hand towards the door control and pushed on it. The door slid open with a _swish_.

"Spock? Anybody home?" She rapped lightly on the doorframe, taking halting steps forward. A muffled sound was coming from around the corner. _What is that?_ Nyota rounded the dividing wall and looked up. "Why haven't you been answering-"

"Stimulus."

_Squeal!_

She was totally unprepared for what she saw. Mister Spock, First Officer of the _Enterprise, _not to mention Chief Science Officer, was seated in a metal folding chair. Across from him, Lieutenant Marsden's baby daughter Ella lay, wriggling like a little worm, eyes alight with joy. She waved a pudgy fist in the air at him. Her yellow onesie was decorated with lavender flowers.

Spock placed his hands palms down over his face, completely obscuring it. "Stimulus," he repeated, uncovering his expressionless face. Raucous laughter bubbled from the baby again. Nyota leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smile slowly drawing her lips apart as she touched them with one hand. _I never expected _**this**_..._

"Having fun?" she cooed.

Spock started before rotating in the chair to face her. Surprise played out over his features. "Nyota?" She tapped her wrist twice. He looked at her in confusion before blinking and eyeing a large display screen on the wall. "I am late? Why did someone not contact me?" He moved to rise, but she raised her hand in a stop gesture.

She sighed amusedly. "Been trying to. You weren't answering, Spock." Nyota moved away from the wall and came to stand beside him. "This little cutie must've been getting all your attention." The baby girl looked over at Nyota briefly, before reaching her little arms for Spock again. "Hello sweetie...I think she has a crush on you, Spock, " she laughed. "I didn't know you knew how to play peek-a-boo."

"I do not know what you are referring to. I discovered this reaction quite by accident." He lifted the child into his arms, shifting her to balance her weight.

Ella grabbed for a lock of Spock's hair, mashing it in her clenched hand. "Eeeee!" she screeched happily.

"I was in the process of replacing her soiled garments with clean ones when she grabbed a small washrag and threw it at my face. When I removed the object to clear my vision, she reacted thusly." He covered his face with one hand, then removed it. Ella giggled again and clapped her hands. "Her responses to the sudden appearance of my face primarily involves laughter." He picked up a previously unnoticed bottle of baby formula from the table and pressed it to her pink little mouth. "I believe she finds me amusing. Though I cannot imagine why." The baby sucked noisily on the bottle, eyes closed. "Naturally, I was curious as to whether I could replicate her reaction to the unexpected visual stimuli. Perhaps then I could discern its origin."

"Naturally." Even as she said the word, she imagined how Dr. McCoy would've reacted if she'd asked him to accompany her. _I'd pay money to see the look on his face..._

"Also, I would not attempt a meld without her mother's consent. Unless I felt it was necessary." He gazed down at the little one, who was now falling peacefully asleep in his arms, formula dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. He stepped closer to Nyota "She is _rather_ distracting, is she not?"

"Yes, she is," Nyota smiled, touching the baby's soft cheek with one finger. As she watched Spock cradle the child in his arms, one thought passed through her mind.

_Someday...he'll make a great daddy._

**This was originally going to be funny (Spock saying "Stimulus" instead of "Peek-aboo"), but it's so sweet! :)**


	12. Keenser Gets Left Out Of The Loop

"Back so soon?" Scotty grabbed a blue rag from his belt and mopped his face with it, before looking up to face Kirk. The captain was peering down at him with a fatigued expression.

"Not exactly. Zerbexians kept us busy for 5 whole hours." Kirk rubbed the back of his neck, twisting it gently with a series of soft cracks.

Scotty let out a low whistle. "Surely you canna mean I've been down here _that _long…" He climbed up out of the access hatch one rung at a time. "If'n ya don't mind my askin', what was it like?"

"The flora or the gravity?" Kirk offered a hand to the engineer, who glanced down at the yellow grease stains before accepting. With little to no effort, Jim yanked him out of the hole and dropped him on his feet next to the gaping doorway.

Scotty kicked the flap shut, laughing. "Well, I guess that answers the second half of that question! So my little experiment was a big hit then?"

Kirk nodded. "Couldn't have done it without you, Scotty. Any tech device that saves me a trip to sickbay is a winner in my books." He rolled up the sleeves of his yellow uniform shirt to reveal a flat black wristband studded with tiny silver filaments.

Scotty smiled. "Well, you can show me your gratitude with a tall glass of me favorite, on you. Ya dinna have any problems? No electric shocks, even?"

"A bit of tingling, but that's all. Nobody ever suspected I had help. Bones was a little jealous, though. Made some smart remarks about wanting to test my blood sugar." Kirk bounced up and down on his toes.

Scotty let his thoughts drift to the reason this little gadget existed in the first place. Zerbex III's gravity was markedly high, due to its immense size, yet it still boasted a lush variety of plant life that the science department was eager to catalogue and sample. After requesting permission from the Zerbex _Halung_, it was agreed that a team would be allowed to collect several varieties of vegetation. Though Kirk had initially wanted to sit this one out, it was Spock who had urged him to attend. Apparently the Zerbexians considered it rudeness on the part of any leader to send his second-in-command in his stead with no good reason. ("_Tell 'em I'm sick_." "I cannot lie, sir." And so on.)

The problem was the strain the planet's gravitational pull was sure to have on Kirk; how could he be an effective representative if he had to struggle with every little movement required? He really didn't relish the idea of getting a hypo stimulant with unknown medical side effects bound to manifest. Coffee, on the other hand, would have an entirely different side effect. The thought of having to excuse himself every hour or so had no appeal.

And so he had approached Scotty a week ago and posed the problem to him. Now, if there was anything Scotty liked, it was a challenge. So he'd missed his customary "hour" of sleep (as he called it) three nights in a row working in his quarters with miniscule tools. The result was a lightweight band to be worn on the wrist that generated a personal gravity dampening field, lessening the planet's effects on the wearer and making it easier to perform duties.

Needless to say, he got more than a few approving looks from the Zerbex, and quite a few disbelieving ones from the landing party, Ensign Hart in particular. The poor botanist looked as though he thought his captain had stepped out of the pages of a comic book.

Scotty reached for a tablet lying on a crate and flipped through the tabs on the screen. Keenser chose that moment to walk into the cargo bay. "Back," he called before retreating behind a column.

"Took ya long enough. I'll be right with you." He put the screen on screensaver and looked back up at the captain. "So, about that drink…."

"Can't. I only got half an hour free. But," Kirk paused, flexing his banded arm, "I could help out around here for the next 20. That'd leave me five for a shower and five to show up." He cracked his knuckles. "So….what needs doing?"

Scotty waved an arm in the direction of a pile of storage containers. "Ya see those crates over there? Well, they're all Doctor McCoy's, and heavy as all get out. When we got them in, he told me to put 'em on the port side. So I did. Not two days later, he told me to move 'em to starboard so he could access something else he wanted. Done. _Then_ he tells me he wants them in cold storage…..anyhow, I must've moved those flamin' things halfway back to Earth when he decides he wants them where I originally put them the first time! All this and Fulton borrows the ETT, _without asking_, because Nurse Mendel thought it would be fun to play transporter tag in the holodeck. Overloaded the circuits and now I cannae budge these hulking boxes one fool inch." He let out a loud sigh before making as though he was going to kick one of the crates.

Kirk folded his arms over his chest. "Oooookaaay, just a wild guess here, but the point of that story was: you want me to test out your newest toy on these things?"

"Please?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Scott. Least I can do," he grinned, rolling up the other sleeve. "Should have it done in no time."

Keenser poked his head out from behind the column. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Scotty replied, wandering over to his friend. "Was the signal relay system _that_ messed up?"

Keenser made a face. "Worse." He looked past Scotty to where Kirk stood, hands on his hips, studying the pile of boxes. "Why?"

Scotty glanced back over his shoulder briefly. "Ahh yes, well , that, my friend, is a great man."

Keenser's eyes widened as Kirk bent at the waist and lifted one of the crates with considerable ease, throwing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"….Yessir, Captain Kirk's always got your back," Scotty continued. The captain bore the massive container on his back before tossing it over his head and depositing it lightly on the ground. Keenser blinked, once, twice. Kirk returned to the stack of boxes.

"Y'know, we're pretty lucky to have him. At least _he's_ willing to lend a hand where it's needed." Kirk lifted another, supporting it on the palm of his hand. A spring in his step, he crossed the length of the cargo bay a second time, laying this one atop the first. Keenser rubbed his eyes, in as much disbelief as his face could betray.

"_Some _captains would consider it beneath them to even lift a finger." This time Kirk seemed to be aware that he was being observed by the bewildered Roylan. He smiled at Keenser and waved before lifting a crate with the index finger of each hand, with seemingly no effort at all.

That was it for Keenser. With no apologies, he backed up slowly before darting out the door like an Olympic sprinter. Scotty frowned, scratching his head. "Now what in the world…."

"Finished." Kirk jogged up next to Scotty. He was barely breaking a sweat, and his cheeks were only faintly pink.

"That was fast…." He looked towards the door again. "Not as fast as Keenser, though. You should've seen the little fella. Ran outta here like we were having a containment breach or summat…." He shrugged. "Now what do ya suppose is eatin' him?"

"Beats me." Kirk shrugged back, but his eyes danced with humor. "Gotta warp."

"Thanks Captain….ya were a real big help." He was just about to clap Kirk on the shoulder when the captain's communicator beeped.

Kirk flipped it open. "Ye'llo."

"Jim, McCoy here. Ya know that little gremlin from Engineering?"

"You mean Keenser, Bones?" Kirk covered his mouth and coughed to hide a laugh.

"Yeah, that's the one. He just came tearing into sickbay like a bat outta hell. Poor guy's a nervous wreck. Wanted me to check his eyesight. When I asked why, all I could get out of him was something about the captain and boxes." McCoy paused. "You know anything about this, Jim?"

Scotty raised an eyebrow at the captain, as if to say, _well?_ Kirk was biting his lip to keep from laughing now. Tears were streaming from his eyes. "I'll – I'll be right there." He clicked the communicator off and snapped it on his belt. Finally he let out a loud howl.

"I dinna see what's so funny about it," Scotty muttered, frowning in concern.

Kirk sucked in a lungful of air, doubled over, hands on his knees. "He – he…saw me….he-" He straightened up and tapped his wristband. "He saw me-"

A light went on Scotty's head. "Ya mean- when you were-"

"Yeah." Kirk wiped his eyes. "Exactly."

Scotty burst out laughing, which set Kirk off again. After several moments, they finally caught their breath. Scotty dragged his sleeve over his wet eyes. "Good heavens…..what he must think…" He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Well….I guess we _both_ owe him an explanation, now, don't we?"

**Note: The ETT was a device mentioned in the 2013 _Star Trek_ video game. For more info, see here: wiki/Engineer_transport_tool**


	13. Doctor's Revenge

"Try it on."

"Absolutely _not!_" Leonard turned in his chair, away from the insistent woman who was bent on making his life a living hell. He crossed his arms over his chest. Deep lines etched into his face and his lips pressed tightly together.

Nyota rubbed her temples, sighing. "Please, Doctor? Just humor me, okay?" She touched his arm lightly.

McCoy ignored it. An artery pulsed in his forehead. _Ugh._ _Go bother Spock. Please._ He pretended to be intrigued with the green salad and _seyem_ juice he'd chosen for lunch. Enthralled. Mesmerized. Anything to avoid the communications officer's scrutiny and that bundle of fabric in her lap.

Nyota finished the last mouthful of chocolate milk from the blue glass to her right and pushed it away. "I thought you'd be on board with this. As I recall, _you _were the one who noticed we, as a whole, were getting a bit…soft lately."

"The word is fat. 1.7% overweight, on average. And I am on board. See?" McCoy spoke with his mouth full, indicating his half-eaten salad with one hand.

"I'm sure you know that losing weight involves more than eating lettuce." She played with her empty glass absently. "Exercise is important, too."

McCoy dropped his fork in his lap. He picked it up and pointed it at her. "I know that! I didn't sleep through medical school, Lieutenant." He forked a tomato wedge and put it in his mouth. "What I don't get," he continued as he chased it down with the juice, "is why you think wearing _that_ is going to make a difference."

She placed the bundle on the table top and pushed it over to him. "Everybody respects your opinion, Leonard,… whether or not they always follow your advice." She counted on her fingers. "Add that to your charisma, leadership skills, and concern for our well-being – you're a natural."

McCoy snorted. He looked her in the eyes, grinning. "Please don't butter me up, _Jim_." He crooked a finger and counted it. "And by the way, you forgot 'enthusiasm'. Probably because you know I have none."

"Can't blame a girl for trying." Nyota stood up, a resigned look on her face. Her dark eyes twinkled. "Should've known, though. He told me you'd never go for it…" She reached for the fabric.

McCoy put his hand over hers and squeezed it. "Wait, wait, wait….hold on…who told you what?"

"Nobody."

She tried to pull away, but he drew her back towards him. "Tell me."

Nyota sighed. "Fine. It was Jim. He saw me working on the concept and asked me what I was doing. So I told him." She paused.

"And?" McCoy looked up at her eagerly.

"He laughed, and then he said you wouldn't have the nerve. That's it. May I go now?" She picked up the fabric and walked away, smiling. _Any minute now…_

"Wait. Uhura." She pivoted in place. "I'll do it." He jumped up and snatched the material from her, then stalked away. "Heaven help me, I'll not have Jim telling everyone I'm a _coward_!"

"I had a feeling you'd change your mind, Doctor." Nyota laughed softly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Thanks for letting me know, Scotty." Kirk ended the communication and tried to focus on the report that swam in front of his eyes. "About time for a break." He yawned and stood up, stretching.

_Ding_. A message appeared on the screen. He tapped it and saw a message and a video file. Nyota's picture from her personnel file accompanied it. "'I win. Pay up.' Oh, man…is this what I think it is?" His eyes widened as he tapped the 'play video' icon. "Oh, no…"

Several images of stars, planets and nebulas played on the screen as techno music began to play. Starfleet insignia from various departments rolled from the right side of the screen, with the medical symbol last and larger than the rest. _Clink_. It grew even bigger and filled the screen.

"Get ready for an exciting hour of fat-burning fun." Nyota's voice narrated. "It's time to get healthy in space. Welcome to…._Jump For Joy With Doctor McCoy_!" The title appeared on the screen for a few seconds, before being replaced by a spacious bright room with several exercise apparatus lining the walls.

A door opened and Leonard McCoy jogged into the room, a pained smile on his face. He was wearing a bright teal jumpsuit that looked like he had been poured into it. "Hello, crew. Are you ready to work out?" He rubbed his hands together. "'Cause I sure am." McCoy made a face as though he had eaten something unpleasant. "We'll start with some stretches. But first, an exciting announcement…" He looked right at the camera. "Next time, we'll be joined by the captain!" McCoy smiled, all his teeth showing. "Won't that be fun, Jim?"

Kirk facepalmed. _Yeah…lots of fun._ He could feel a headache forming already. _Next time you have a brilliant idea, Lieutenant, do me a favor; keep it to yourself._


	14. Ego Much?

"Just relax, Captain…have a drink of water, take a deep breath, and close your eyes. Try to imagine what you are describing." Uhura passed the tablet across his desk to Kirk and smiled slightly. In an effort to attract more recruits in the wake of recent events, Starfleet had decided it needed a spokesperson who had actually been through the fire. Someone young, charismatic, and enthusiastic. Naturally, they'd chosen Kirk. _Who else? _He smirked to himself. The request and script had been sent over from Recruiting this morning, and as the lieutenant had received the message, she took it upon herself to help him get his enunciations right. Or, as she had tactfully put it, "_make sure you don't totally mess it up."_

"No problem." He studied it for a few seconds, nodded, and reached for the bottle of water. As he lifted it to his lips and drank, he caught McCoy's eye. The doctor smiled easily at him, before making the "okay" sign with his right hand. _You'll do fine, Jim._ Kirk swiveled the chair side to side, before leaning forward and looking at the script. It was actually quite poetic.

"Beyond the white-capped mountains, golden prairies, and impossibly blue oceans that once defined our explorations…there is space…limitless…vast…full of adventure and infinite possibilities. The pioneer heart that drove us onward still beats inside us to this day. Join Starfleet and be a part of this unimaginable journey. A myriad of unknown worlds call your name."

He drew in a deep breath, pausing for effect. McCoy's eyebrows quirked upwards as he sank back in his chair, evidently surprised. Uhura, whose eyes had been closed as she listened, leaned forward slightly and opened her mouth. Before she could speak, he held one finger up in the air. She nodded, deferring to him. He shook his head, lay the tablet back on his desk, and gave his trademark winning smile, the kind that made the ladies swoon and the men smoulder in envy. _IMHO, anyway…_

"My name is James T Kirk, and I improve this message."

He watched in amusement as McCoy jolted forward, his eyes pinched in scrutiny, head cocked to one side as though he couldn't believe what he just heard. Uhura's eyes, on the other hand, rolled back in her head as she let out a little huff, as if to say, "Oh, brother." She grabbed the tablet and skimmed the text, before looking up at him. "It doesn't say that," she frowned.

Kirk pinched his finger and thumb together. " Yeah…I added that last part myself."

McCoy, who had regained some of his composure, tsked. "_Really_? And besides, Jim, even if it did, it's supposed to be "**_ap_**_prove"_, not "**_im_**_prove_".

Kirk grinned, pointing at his chest with his right thumb, pleased as punch. "Not from where I'm standing."

"Oh, _please_," Uhura sighed loudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know, you almost nailed it cold, Jim. But, noooo, you just couldn't resist the call of the wild ego." McCoy shook his head.

"What, you think you could've done better?" Kirk stabbed the air in front of McCoy lazily. "I know exactly what you'd say; 'Join Starfleet. If you're darn lucky, _maybe_ you'll come back alive…but probably not.'"

McCoy's face turned bright red. "That's not funny!"

"Oh, yes it is…" Kirk smiled.

Uhura leaned forward and took his hand in both of hers. "Look, there's a reason why they chose you for this. People respect you, your opinions, your courage. They'll listen to _you, _not some 'stuffy old man'."

Kirk lazily let his mouth droop open. "Soooo, if I'm right, what you're saying is…technically, I _do _improve this message." He pointed forwards with both index fingers.

Uhura huffed out a sigh. "All right, _yes_…"

Kirk turned to face McCoy, who was still sulking, arms crossed, turned away. "Say it."

McCoy tipped his head forward. "Say what?"

"You know what."

"No."

"Say it."

"No. I won't."

"SAY IT."

"Is that an order?"

"Maybe…maybe not. You decide. Do you _like _scraping asteroid bits off the outer hull?"

"I-" McCoy paused, finger pointing upward in the air. He covered his face with both hands, muffling his speech. "Ergh. Fine. You improve this message. Heaven knows you improved my life. Happy?"

Kirk sighed. "Much."

McCoy spun his chair to one side, frowning. "Mind you, when I say 'improve', I mean 'complicate'…" he muttered under his breath. Uhura laughed softly.


	15. Score One For Vulcans

"I can assure you, Doctor, while we are typically reserved in our reactions to stimuli-" Spock caught Kirk's upward gaze and raised an eyebrow. "-with _some_ exceptions…we are not as cold and unfeeling as you believe. Quite the contrary." He reached for a French fry and dabbed it in a puddle of ketchup twice before delicately lifting it to his mouth and biting off the end. "Salty and sweet. A combination of two tastes that while alone are satisfying, together are…strangely not enough without recurrence." Repeating the action with another fry, he chewed slowly, lifting his head as he realized that both Kirk and McCoy were watching him.

"In case you were wondering, I believe that's Vulcan for 'you can't eat just one'." McCoy chuckled, reaching for an onion ring. "Okay, case in point. But seriously, even though you're half-human, there are some things I just can't see you doing." He took a bite, chewing off a section of batter and pulling the onion inside out. It hung limply from his lower lip.

Kirk put his hand on his first officer's arm and shook it gently. "Oh, come on, Bones, Spock can do anything he puts his mind to, can't you, Spock?" A straw lay next to Kirk's left arm. He reached for a plastic spoon and used it to scoop his milkshake out of an old-fashioned style soda glass. Flecks of ice cream dotted his cheek.

Spock looked down at his hands. "I believe my record speaks for itself, sir. I have no wish to brag, but I have completed many objectives which were thought to be impossible. As both of you have." He selected three fries from the pile on a plate in the middle of the table.

McCoy dipped a fry liberally in the ketchup and brought it to his mouth carefully, twisting his head and neck to catch a drip that was headed for his teal shirt. "No, seriously…" He smacked his lips together.

"Okay, I'll bite." Kirk picked up the half-eaten hamburger from his dish and did just that. "What wouldn't he do?"

McCoy paused, catching Spock's eye. He waved his hand, palm upward indicating McCoy should continue. He ran his grease-tipped fingers through his hair. "Well, like…like teasing his hair. Can you just imagine Spock with an afro? Nightmare city." He shivered. "Or doing the macarena."

"No." Kirk squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop right there. Ouch."

McCoy grimaced. "I know, right?"

Kirk pointed his burger at McCoy. "Riding a unicycle."

"Oh, man…" McCoy thought for a minute. "Doodling. On the wall. With sidewalk chalk."

"Blowing soap bubbles." Kirk leaned his head on his hand, snickering.

McCoy raised a finger in the air. "Playing ping-pong. No, scratch that…pretty much any competitive sport."

Kirk raised both brows at Spock, who sipped his drink calmly, unaffected. "Vulcans do have several forms of competitive physical activity, though they are far less about the rivalry between teams and individuals than those that humans participate in. Rather, we focus on achieving personal bests by disciplining the body and mind." He wiped his mouth carefully with a napkin. "The audience appreciates the poetry and efficiency of motion that comes from years of training."

Kirk turned to McCoy, chin resting on both arms. "Well, there's your answer, Bones."

McCoy pushed the chair back and stood, rolling his shoulders. "Okay, but still, I'd hate to be a commentator at one of those games." He held up both hands in front of his face, rolling his eyes. "I can hear it now; 'He scores! And the crowd goes wild with indifference!'"

Kirk snorted, picking up his tray and reaching for his half-full milkshake glass. Instead of grasping it, he knocked the heavy object flying at McCoy's head. In one fluid movement, Spock leapt from his seat to stand in front of a frozen McCoy. With a soft _smack! _sound, he caught the glass in one hand as it narrowly missed crashing into McCoy's lower jaw.

Kirk's mouth hung open, his eyes as round as saucers. McCoy shook all over, breathing rapidly, his face white. Spock, for his part, hardly seemed phased; except for a tiny furrow in his forehead, he appeared perfectly calm. Slowly he set Kirk's glass down on the table with a tiny _clink_.

McCoy sunk back down in his seat, still looking up at the Vulcan in surprise, but his color looked a little better and he wasn't panting as heavily. He wiped his brow with his bare arm. "Phew!...Um…Spock…" he gasped. A bit of pink flushed his cheeks as he smiled wanly up at his rescuer. "Ah, perhaps…there's something…to be said about…'efficiency of motion'… after all."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, Doctor. Perhaps there is."


	16. Commfusion

"Mister Scott?"

"No sir, direct hit."

"Mister Scott?!"

"Not really, sir. She wasn't really my type, anyway."

" (Groan)Mister Scott!"

"Don't you think it's humid enough in here, sir?"

"Mister SCOTT!"

"'Miss Terscotte'? Nobody here by that name, sir…"

"SCOTT!"

"Did you spill something, sir?"

"Ergh….SCOTTY!"

"Arf, arf."

"Sigh…"


	17. Im A Doctor, Not The Devil!

Tribanullium gas is colorless. Odorless. But not harmless.

At this very moment, the _Enterprise_ was hosting the passengers of a crippled Jeelan shuttlecraft. The craft had crashed into Riu III's moon just as they had arrived to investigate the dense sulfur clouds that surrounded it. Injuries were minor- "Just some bumps and bruises. Darn lucky." McCoy had assured the captain- but the ship was significantly damaged to the point of needing parts they did not possess. Moreover, none of the passengers had the mechanical expertise necessary to fix it. _Well, that's just irresponsible._ Naturally, Captain Kirk had offered any assistance they could muster. _Naturally._

And that was why Scotty now found himself trying to piece together a living nightmare. Helical in shape, the shuttle was made to hold 20 people comfortably. It was fairly compact and mostly intact, except for three holes in the left side and a door hanging off its hinges. That was the easy part.

The hard part was untangling the multiple wires that criss-crossed the inside of the hull. They had inevitably wrapped around themselves several times as wires are wont to do; several were melted together. _Oh, blast…this'll take me forever…_

He was lying on his back in t painstakingly trying to separate the frayed and twisted mass of rubber-coated filaments, one strand at a time. _The very definition of mind-numbing_… Keenser was in the cockpit trying to access the flight data recorder to determine the cause of the accident. _Why me?_ _He's got smaller fingers than I do…but he did win the game fair and square. Note to self; never gamble with Roylans. They practically invented the poker face._ Scotty tugged on the end of one strand, gently separating it from the rest. _Ha…maybe I should've been a surgeon! _He chuckled to himself, waving his tweezers around. _Thwick. _The pointy end of the pincers poked a hole in a small hose nearby. _Oops…on second thought….I'll fix that later._ He rubbed his nose under his goggles and reached for another strand.

He didn't hear the slight hissing noise as tribanullium leaked steadily.

The first thing he noticed was the way the ship seemed to wobble under his feet.

_Are we moving? I've never felt it like that before….a bit like being on a boat…huh…where did those black spots come from…sparkly bits that look like stars…only stars don't disappear and dance like that…heavy…hazy…I can float…so dreamy…my arms are heavy….everything is slow…what the devil are ya blathering on about, Keenser? Oy, ye've turned blue…or maybe I'm seeing things…ooh, cannae get me breath…I…what's happenin' to me? Air…where did the fireflies come from…oh, it's night…too dark…too…_

"…it's a good thing you got him out of there in time, Keenser. That stuff's worse than CO2, but he'll be good as new in no time. Oxygen sat's improving steadily."

Scotty blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting in medbay. "Me head…," he groaned. The room spun in circles. "Where am I?" He tried to move his arms and legs, but couldn't; there seemed to be something confining them. He saw his own reflection in the clear glass that covered his body.

A peachy blob appeared in his line of sight. "Scotty? Can you hear me?" The blob morphed into Dr. McCoy's face. "There was a tribanullium leak…you were exposed to it for several minutes." He looked upwards at a screen, then returned his concerned gaze to the ill engineer. "Do you know where you are?"

Scotty blinked weakly. "Oh, great…" he muttered. "I've died and gone to hell."

The last thing he remembered as his eyes closed again, this time in sleep, was McCoy frowning at him and sighing. "Oh, he's going to be just _fine_." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips despite his exasperation.

Scotty smiled back.


	18. Spock Wants A Treehouse

The smell of burnt metal teased Kirk's nostrils as he climbed down from the access hatch. He squinted, trying to make out his surroundings. Firelight flickered against the walls, casting unfamiliar shadows of rather ordinary objects, now mangled and out of place due to the chaos. _Wicked hot in here_, he thought to himself. He stepped over a forgotten tablet, heart pounding, crouch-running towards the bend in the hallway with his phaser rifle carefully extended in front of him.

He stopped, breathing quietly, and flicked a gaze around the corner. _Nobody there_. Turning in place, he pulled out his comm. "Spock?"

No answer.

He whipped his head around, trying to think where he'd last seen the first officer. _Focus…_ _The access tunnels. Yes. He was right behind me._ Tip-toeing back the way he came, Kirk paused, prepared for any possibility.

Except this.

He stepped in and looked up into the hole he'd come from. "Spock?" He couldn't see him. But then he couldn't see green blood dripping, either.

"I am here, sir."

_Whew…_ "Why didn't you answer me?"

"I am pretending I am in a treehouse."

_What?_ "What?" Kirk facepalmed. "Spock, not now…"

"I always wanted a treehouse. But my father would not build me one."

Kirk ground his teeth together, barely restraining his frustration. "Spock. I am your captain and I order you to come down and finish this mission."

Nothing.

"_Spock._ _Now._"

"Very well, sir." Spock dropped down from the hatch and followed Kirk as though nothing had just happened.

Kirk sighed with relief.

**_Some time later_**

"I don't know what to make of it. It _couldnae_ have gotten up and walked away…"

Kirk stopped the chief engineer by grabbing his arm gently. "Something wrong, Scotty?"

He looked up from the tablet he was holding, his brow furrowed. "You could say we have a bit of a mystery on our hands, sir. I've just been going over the inventory of our cargo." He tsked, shaking his head. "Let me ask you this, sir; how does an entire crate of pre-fabricated housing material go missing? On me watch?"

"Really? Let me see that." Kirk took the tablet and read the cargo manifest. Sure enough, everything was accounted for, except for the one crate. "Now that _is_ odd. " He stroked his chin. "I could see food, or precious metals, or weapons being taken, but an-" Something pinged in his memory. _Oh no, not that…_ "an entire crate….of pre-fabricated…housing material." His expression changed from confusion to rage as the words sunk in.

Shoving the tablet into Scotty's middle –"Oy, what's gotten into you?"- he stomped down the hall, his face a bright crimson. Plowing into the turbolift, he growled, "Arboretum."

When he arrived on the correct floor, he ran out the door, nearly crashing into several crew members. He was fairly sure what he'd see when he entered the artificial garden.

Kirk pounded over to a large "arboreal specimen", as his suspect would refer to it, and his suspicions were confirmed. High in its branches, a large structure had been assembled from the prefabricated housing parts. The empty crate lay in the corner, still open. A rope ladder extended from the door of the structure to the base of the tree.

"SPOCK!"

"Do you like my treehouse, sir?" The Vulcan remained irritatingly hidden behind the walls of the house.

"Spock. Get down. _That is a direct order._"

"Sir, since I am currently off duty, I believe I have the right to recreation, do I not?"

Kirk punched his open palm. "That's it. I'm coming up there…"

"What is the password?" Spock intoned calmly.

"Let's see, how about 'Spock's an idiot.'"

"That is not it."

Kirk grimaced. "'Logic.'"

"Rodentia. You guessed."


	19. Look At Me And My Old Self

Spock rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet before bending over and touching his toes. It was a ridiculously simple exercise, yet seemed to have the effect of waking him more fully than he had been only a few minutes ago. Safely wrapped in the warmth of his blankets and sheets, a certain level of fatigue hovered around his body. Only by exposing his bare feet to the floor and participating in activity slightly more rigorous than turning over to burrow one's head deeper into the pillow could he chase away some of the fog.

He straightened slowly, feeling his hyperextended back muscles easing slack. Then, after a pause of a few seconds, he repeated the exercise, this time holding the position longer. Significantly better, but still drowsy. _Caffeine would be a suitable stimulant. As would breakfast. _He checked the time on his clock. _0755 hours. Caffeine will have to suffice by itself._

Padding softly over to the replicator in the corner, he pressed a button. "Coffee, black." The cup appeared with steaming dark liquid in it. He blew lightly on the drink before downing it with one gulp and placing the empty cup back on the machine.

Spock's next stop was the small washroom in his quarters. He opened an almost invisible cupboard to his right and removed a small blue tube and a toothbrush, uncapping the tube and squeezing out a tiny bit of toothpaste. Replacing the tube, he moved towards the sink area, glancing upwards at the small mirror above it.

The toothbrush dropped with a clatter in the sink bowl.

Staring back at him was a familiar face, one he knew _very_ well. Lined with age and wisdom. And perhaps a twinkle of…_mirth?_

It was his own.

Or at least it would be.

Spock frowned. He touched his face with both hands, feeling the cool smoothness of a young man's cheek. "What has happened? Why-" He watched as the face mimicked his reactions, albeit slightly time-delayed. He leaned in closer to the mirror. "How? I am not-"

"But I _am_." The wizened face nodded at him, winking.

Spock pulled away, surprise and confusion in his eyes. "I do not understand. Is this a vision?"

"You could say that." Spock Prime leaned forward.

"Then I shall return to bed and continue it there." Spock hurried out of the room, abandoning the toothbrush in his wake.

If he had remained, he would have seen Kirk crowd into the mirror next to the older Vulcan, smirking. "'Yesterday, we replaced Spock's mirror with a display screen. Let's see if he notices the difference.'" Kirk covered his mouth with his hand, then turned to Spock Prime. "Did you see the look on his- I mean, _your_- face?"

Spock Prime smiled. "It _was_ rather amusing."

Kirk raised his hand and Spock Prime slapped it, lowering his own to complete the high-low fiving. Kirk shook his head. "Who knew you could be such a prankster?"

"One of my less developed talents. When are you going to tell him?"

Kirk smirked. "Eventually."

* * *

><p>Later that day, they informed him what they'd done. While Spock was more than a little unnerved by the idea of being so easily fooled, he chalked it up to fatigue and grogginess. He also rather effusively apologized for missing half of his shift in the process. Kirk shrugged it off, assuring him that nothing of note had occurred.<p>

In the middle of a stern reprimand directed towards the captain for the potential negative side effects, both psychological and administrative, that would result from such an action, it occurred to him to inquire as to whether anyone else knew of Spock Prime's presence on the ship. The answer given was no. Which set the wheels turning in his and Kirk's heads at approximately the same time.

Kirk's job was to reroute the wiring of the lighting in the public restroom on deck 4 in such a way that it couldn't be repaired without manual intervention at that end. Having done so, he signalled the Spocks to be ready in 3 minutes.

The turbolift door at the end of the hall opened, and Scotty exited, a box of tools in one hand and a sigh plastered over his face. "One of me less glamourous jobs," he muttered.

Spock headed down the hall towards him. They met at the door of the affected room. Scotty held up a hand. "Hold on a sec. I was just aboot to go in there and fix the lighting."

Spock put a pained look on his face. "I must use the facilities first."

Scotty scratched his head. "Can ye see in the dark, noo?"

"It does not matter."

Scotty sighed. "All right then. But hurry up." Spock nodded and entered the restroom.

Scotty leaned against the wall, slumping slightly. He set the toolbox down and pulled out his communicator. "Anderson? Have ye got those glitches fixed yet..."

Minutes passed. Scotty alternated between picking at a thread on his sleeve, giving orders via comm, and nodding politely at passing crew.

He had almost dozed off when the door swished open. Scotty pushed against the wall and lifted his toolbox again, turning to head into the room. "Well, it's aboot time ye finally-"

Spock Prime stood before him, wearing a uniform identical to Spock's. Scotty dropped the toolbox, which landed on its side and spilled the contents all over the floor. "_ACH!_ How long have ye been _in there_?"

"Two minutes. Why?" Spock Prime questioned.

"Well, either I'm losing me mind, or there's some kind of time portal in the loo." Scotty blinked. "There isna, is there?"

A snort came from up above, and Scotty whipped his head upwards towards the access hatch over their heads. Two figures were huddled up in the Jeffries tubes. One was snickering in a rather juvenile way. The other allowed a ghost of a smile to form on his lips.

* * *

><p>After sputtering for a few minutes, Scotty had to admit that it was pretty funny. "But ye know what's nae funny? That mess you made of the wiring."<p>

"Relax, Scotty, I'll help you fix it."Kirk assured him, his hand on the chief engineer's shoulder.

"You bet your sweet life ye will." Scotty bent over to gather his spilled implements. When he turned around, a strange light had come into his eyes. "Ye can make it up to me in another way, though…"

* * *

><p>It was rather handy that they were still in orbit of a class-M planet. Handier still that Spock hadn't gone with the original landing party to collect examples of the life present there. Scotty beamed both Vulcans to the surface, only to be called away on "important matters". The younger Spock promptly hid in an underground cavern, after tying in his comm to Spock Prime's.<p>

"Mr. Chekov." Spock's voice revealed nothing. "I have retrieved the biological samples I require. Lock on to the following coordinates." He rattled off a series of numbers.

Chekov peered down at the screen, entering the coordinates and isolating the lone individual on the planet's surface. He pressed a button to confirm. "I haff a lock on your location, Mr. Spock. Stay still." He engaged the transporter and watched as the Vulcan rematerialized on the pad.

"It is good to be back, Mr. Chekov." Spock Prime delivered his line stoically, one hand on the bag at his side, still dressed identical to his younger self.

Chekov's mouth dropped open. He stared down at the screen, then looked back up again. Sure enough, the elderly Vulcan was still there. He blinked, shaking his head. "Oh…no. Vhat happened to you, Spock? How could…" He grabbed Spock Prime by the arms. "I must be imagining thees! You're…_old._"

Spock Prime chuckled. "I am quite well, Mr. Chekov."

Chekov hurried over to the transporter console. "Zhere must be sometheeng in the atmosphere. I don't understand eet. How could you possibly-" His brow furrowed as he hunched over the screen, rapidly tapping keys.

The transporter activated itself and a second figure materialized. "It is not impossible-" Chekov's head snapped up as younger Spock moved towards him. "-When one is two."

"Ahhh…" Recognition dawned in Chekov's eyes as Kirk and Scotty emerged from their hiding place out in the hallway.

Kirk slung an arm around the lieutenant's shoulders. "Really had you going there, didn't we?"

Chekov nodded, smiling sheepishly and blushing. "I forgot there were two of heem."

Scotty chuckled. "Well, it's not exactly April 1st, but close enough."

Chekov wiped his brow with one arm. "I guess that makes me the fool, then."

Kirk grinned. "One in a line of many. You're in good company, Mr. Chekov."


	20. Schooling The Captain

He should have known better than to think he was safe from intruders.

Leonard shifted his backside, trying to get comfortable on the well-worn campstool. Sighing languidly, he peered around the edge of the wet canvas, looking for a better angle through the early morning haze. The clear blue freshwater lake stretched out as far as the eye could see. Sweeping pine trees surrounded its banks, their long dangling branches lazily poking the air. Across the water, a faint glimmer of sunrise twinkled a dreamy purplish blue-gold.

Behind the wooden pier he now perched on the edge of, a wooden sloped roof lake house sat, its dark walls and high windows blending with the forest behind it. French doors lead to a small deck which jutted out over the water like a figurehead on a ship. There, a pair of Adirondack chairs extended an invitation to curl up under a throw blanket with a hot cup of tea and watch the loons that glided slowly by. Every now and then one would release its signature cry so reminiscent of insane laughter.

It was a nice place. For a holographic program, that is.

He chuckled softly to himself, setting down his palette on the dock to give the old fishing hat he wore a good tug. _Maybe I _am_ crazy. Painting a picture of a holo-simulated location…_ Picking up the palette again, he reached for a soft horsehair paintbrush and dabbed it in a deep lavender color. This would be the cloud that now rested just to his left, a rather feathery oval. He wisped the bristles gently across the canvas, leaving a faint suggestion of vapor, before blending a little light gray with the underside.

_Perfect_. _I think I captured it._ He had been working on this painting for a solid 3 months now, whenever he could find the time between having to resuscitate Jim – _again_- or find some cure for a brand new breed of nasty malevolent viral infection. It was a hobby that Spock had suggested to him in one of his less guarded moments. _Well what do you know? He actually had a good idea this time._ He found himself oddly soothed by the way the brush danced across the page, calling into reality a miniature version of the scene approximated before him.

Since most of McCoy's experiences with nature didn't leave him near enough time to appreciate the scenery, he'd decided to experiment with this program, based on a lakefront lodge he'd briefly considered buying in the early days of his marriage. Considering how long _that_ had lasted, he figured that in retrospect, it was probably a good thing he hadn't. _Something else she would've gotten._ _At least Pam can't take _this_ from me…_

He stroked his chin, studying the interplay of light and color on the water. _Hmmm…have I got the reflection exactly right?_ It was hard to tell for sure, the way the program was constantly changing. He'd tried pausing the program, but ironically, despite the fact that his finished work would freeze one moment in time, using a still shot for inspiration seemed wrong. _If I could just get across that sense of time passing, constantly changing…but in one painting…_ Leonard rubbed his forehead, squinting.

He opened his eyes as a whisper of shadow passed overhead. A lone goose soared through the fog and disappeared, its wide wings flapping in a steady rhythm. Leonard smiled. Sometimes the randomness of this program surprised even him.

Dipping his paintbrush in an old coffee mug with the handle broken off, he cleaned the tip, swirling it around. He pressed it against the edge. Smoky purple water ran down the edge over the words "Starfleet Medical". He raised the palette and selected a muted gray for the goose's silhouette.

Just as he was about to stroke the avian into pigmentary existence, _"WHOO-HOO HOO!" _ A loud loon call echoed from behind his head, shattering the stillness of the lake.

"WHUH!" McCoy jumped up from the stool, knocking over his easel with a loud clatter and sending paint and dirty water splashing all over the pier. His brush rolled away, dropping into the water with a quiet _ploop_, followed by the palette, which had landed on its edge and spun in circles before taking a swan dive of its own. The stool tipped to one side, but fortunately, remained high and dry.

He stepped over the easel and gingerly approached the edge of the dock, swearing under his breath. His canvas lay flat on its back, covered in splattered droplets of paint water. _Peachy_. Bending over at the waist, he grabbed the work in progress by the edges and set it down behind him. He straightened up again, hands on hips. Retrieving the palette and brush would be as easy as saying, "Computer, end program." But something defiant in him didn't want to leave just yet.

"WHOO-HOO-HOO!"

"AHH!" Leonard gasped, whipping his head from side to side as he tried to identify the source of the sound. It didn't take him long.

Jim materialized out of the mist, his face a boyish mix of brat and frat boy. He approached Leonard with a mischievous grin on his face. "Did I scare you, Bones?" he chuckled. McCoy said nothing, letting his "I am not amused" frown speak volumes.

Jim appeared not to notice, though, but merely clapped Leonard on the shoulder before cupping his hands around his mouth and imitating the cry once more, "Whoo-hoo-h-" before giving in to laughter again. A single tear ran down his cheek and he brushed it away. "Heh, heh, heh…oh man… need some help? Let me just…" His voice trailed off as he stepped around Leonard and headed towards the end of the pier, stooping next to the collapsed easel.

In that moment, something snapped inside McCoy. Without thinking, he stomped over to the captain and planted his boot in the seat of the captain's pants. Kirk let out a yelp and lost his balance, flying into the frigid water headfirst with a loud _SPLASH!_

"That'll learn ya!" McCoy barked.

For the next two minutes, he stood there watching Jim sputter and cough as he thrashed about in the lake. His blond hair was plastered to his head, while his lips had turned almost as blue as his eyes. "B-bones! What did you do that for!?" He reached up one hand and wiped his eyes, squinting, before resuming his shocked expression.

_Ha! You want to be a loon, you're going to have to swim like one…_

Eventually, though, he took pity on Jim. Or maybe his doctor instincts kicked in. Real or imagined, the chilly lake could still induce hypothermia or pneumonia. The last thing he wanted was to have to officially document _his_ part in this whole fiasco.

Five minutes later, they were up on the deck, Kirk cocooned in a plaid fleece blanket pulled up over his head. His shaky hands poked out of an opening, gratefully accepting a mug of hot, strong tea. He took a sip, sighing before setting it down on the table between them. He drew the blanket tighter and met Leonard's concerned but amused gaze. "I-I c-c-could have you court-martialed for th-th-this, y'know," he threatened without malice. "D-didn't you take an oath or s-something?"

Leonard regarded him for a moment before speaking. "Really, you had it comin', kid. Don't deny it."

Kirk let out a slow breath. He smiled. "Maybe I did. But-_hachoo_!" He rubbed his nose, sniffling. "I'll get eben wit you if it's de last thig I do. _Hachoo!"_ He buried his snotty face in the folds of the blanket. _Ew._

McCoy sighed deeply, looking out over the water again. The mist was dissipating, giving way to a gorgeous blue sky. _Memorize it, Leonard. Something tells me you're not gonna see this place for at _least_ a week...maybe longer…_


End file.
